


Second Chances

by moonchildanoriel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anxiety, Crying, Dark Past, Depressed Sirius Black, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Getting Back Together, Idiots in Love, Insomnia, Kissing, M/M, Marauders, Mentioned James Potter, My First AO3 Post, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, POV Remus Lupin, Panic Attacks, Piano, Post-Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Post-Sirius Black in Azkaban, Protective Remus Lupin, Reconciliation, Remus Lupin is a Good Boyfriend, Sad Sirius Black, Sirius Black Needs a Hug, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin Fluff, Suicide Attempt, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, True Love, Werewolf Remus Lupin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:02:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26271556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonchildanoriel/pseuds/moonchildanoriel
Summary: Following his escape from Azkaban, Sirius Black is an emotional mess. After their arrival at number 12 Grimmauld Place, the new headquarter of the order, Remus does not know how close the two of them still are. He stays in the house with Sirius, knowing that his former lover is not well. Time has changed both men. Are their feelings still strong enough for a new chance?
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 79





	Second Chances

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first fanfiction of my favorite ship. Please keep in mind that English is not my native language and mistakes may have been made on occasion. Be kind and gentle with me, I'm a big softie. Enjoy!

“Mum? Mum, I’m scared!” His mother gently caressed his cheek. She smiled, but it did not reach her sorrow-filled eyes, her thin face pale and tired. “Don’t be, honey. We know you can do it and your father and I will be just outside the door and right by your side again in the morning. I promise!” She kissed him on the top of his head and he curled his trembling fingers around her wrist. Strangely enough, she seemed to lose more and more weight, as he could not remember the last time her wrists felt this bony. Then again, she had all the reason in the world to worry. Her own son, or whatever would be left of him in a few minutes, being the main reason for her mental distress. Even though she did her best not to let him know, he heard them, his parents, arguing and, with the help of his heightened senses, his mother’s sobs through the wooden bathroom door once he was out of sight. He saw it in their eyes - the deep sadness, the regrets. Especially his father, who could not bear to hold his gaze for longer than a few seconds ever since he was able to remember, had changed. They never talked much, but lately he just seemed to be avoiding him. The son who scared his own family, the abomination. He hated it. Hated the fact that he had to hide, that his parents became outcasts because of him. He hated that he caused so much pain and suffering to everyone he met and that he would never be able to make his parents proud. Stuck in their house, he only brought misery and danger to the once so joyful and outgoing family he vaguely remembered in his dreams. When she got up, it was her own hands that trembled now, but she quickly hid them behind her back. She would never reveal the true extend of her vulnerability to him, although he had managed to see through her kind acts of easiness years ago. The woman only meant well, her whole nature was too good for this world. Of that he was sure as she would never malevolently deceive him. Her heart was simply too pure, too honest and when her long fingers reached for the doorknob and her shoulder length hair, dark and silky in the candlelight, encased her small frame, he could feel the warmth and desperation of a single tear rolling down his cheek. O how much he had doomed his mother’s life. Immediately after the door fell shut, he could hear the soft cracks of the magical enchantments sealing it and protecting his parents from the monster he was about to become. Suddenly, as expected, the moonlight bathed the room into an opal gloom through the small window to his right and his last clear thought before the monster took over was about Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry - how his life might change after he went there for the first time this summer.

When he awoke, a familiar and yet unbearable pain passed through him. His limbs were heavy and tired, as if he had been running non-stop throughout the night. Yet, he could not be more grateful, for the fact that he could smell the scent of freshly brewed tea and old books showed him that he had made it through the night. That Remus Lupin was back in control. At first, he kept his eyes closed and concentrated on his senses. Softly, music came to his ears, sounds he knew only too well. Tunes, which gave him a feeling of warmth and safety. Sudden euphoria flowed through him as he ran his hands across the soft surface on which he seemed to have been lying for a while now. A well-known place, he lay on the large sofa in his parents' living room. As usual he could not remember how he got there. Despite the pain piercing him, he dared to open his eyes timidly. The bright colors of the light-flooded room made him blink at first, but then his eyes could focus. Opposite him, his mother sat at the piano and played soft and lovely tones, as she had often done whenever he slowly came down after a particularly stressful full moon. His gaze wandered to his own hands and he saw that they were bandaged. Presumably, his parents had cleaned him before and healed him as best they could. The thought of how and in which shape they had found him in the cellar worried him. Taking a deep breath, he inhaled the lovely smell of the room, the fresh cut flowers on the table, the distant scent of his mother's perfume. A tired smile drowned out his lips as he watched her, stretched out on the sofa. Her elegant fingers flitted over the piano keys, a talent he could never fully acquire even with more than a little practice. But he would recognize the melody anywhere, how ironic that she played it just this morning. He closed his eyes again to absorb and enjoy every key. It was the Moonlight Sonata by the Muggle composer Beethoven, one of his mother’s favorites.

The moment was so peaceful, so healing, that when both eyes were opened again, he nearly shot up. He could still hear the soft sound of distant piano music. Except he was no longer 11 years old anymore, but a grown man of 34, and this was not his parents' cozy living room but the cold and eerie guest bedroom of number 12 Grimmauld place.

*******

Remus exhaled loudly and turned to lay on his back, the old bed creaking under his weight. It had been a long time since he had transferred elements of a dream to reality. It was almost frightening how the past could blur with the here and now through the surreal bridge of dreams. His inner satisfaction, which had not been there when he had fallen asleep, showed him that he missed the sight of his mother very much. Her death had heralded a series of sufferings in his life. He had been alone ever since, the lone wolf. It had been his own father who told him once, after a bedtime story, that loved ones never really leave us, that they sometimes visit us in our dreams and thus watch over their bereaved. Lyall had believed that they give us signs in uncertain phases of life and thereby guide us on the right path. A comforting thought. "Is there something you want to say to me, mum?" Remus whispered quietly, smiling at the wood paneled ceiling above him. Although he had almost completely closed the thick curtains, the moonlight of the waxing spring crescent shone through the large window like a ray of sunshine, allowing his eyes to orientate themselves in the room. Only now did he notice that he could still hear soft piano music and that this could no longer be blamed upon his semi-drowsiness. Slowly he sat up and rubbed the sides of his temples. A quick reach for his wand on the adjoining nightstand and an almost wordless _Tempus_ told him that it was only two o'clock in the morning. Where did the music come from? There were no other members of the order in the house, except him and...but of course. Remus sighed; Sirius Black did always have a very disturbed sleeping schedule, even in their youth. He was always up late, always restless. _Except when we were sleeping together_. He shook his head and repressed the thought with a frown. Remus quietly opened the door to the first corridor of the old house, stepped out of the bulky guest room, and began to listen again. The piano music was now more clearly audible, and he dared to locate its origin in the living room on the ground floor. Only now did he notice the rain pattering against the windows of the salon at some distance. With the wand in his right hand, more out of habit than suspicion, Remus made his way to the grand staircase of the estate. Quickly, however, he had to admit that without a _Lumos_ charm he could not even make out the outlines of the descending steps. The dark house did not only live up to the name of its owners during daytime but especially at night. Everything was pitch black. When he had already walked down the stairs halfway, always careful not to make a sound, he realized that he had not put anything on. If it wasn't Sirius, but Kreatcher or even another member of the order, who was responsible for the music, he would face the guest in an awkward manner, wearing pyjama trousers and a lose t-shirt. _And why does my casual appearance not bother me when it would indeed be Sirius?_ Arriving at the bottom of the stairs, Remus breathed a sigh of relief; he had made it past the portrait of Walburga Black without waking her. The witch’s screams would have given him away for good.

Reaching the door to the living room, Remus extinguished the light of his wand with a short _Nox_. To his amazement, the living room was neither lit nor bathed in candlelight, only the moonlight allowed him to look inside. The piano stood at the opposite corner of the large room to the side of the door so that he could overlook the room without being seen himself. The Blacks' sumptuous room had an eerie and tasteless pureblood charm, expensive pieces of furniture made of dark wood, a sitting area of velvet elements in front of a dusty fireplace overhung by a glorious chandelier. Remus wrinkled his nose. He had been in this room once before in his youth, the first and only time he had visited Sirius over the winter holidays. Even then, when it was inhabited and well kept, the room was no less repugnant to him. Pretentious, cold, and not very inviting. At the piano itself sat the heir to this family, or he would have been, had he not abhorred their values and broken the domestic peace by being sorted into Gryffindor. Sirius was so immersed in Chopin's Nocturne in C sharp minor, how Remus so instantly recognized the name of the piece was a mystery to him and would have made his mother proud, that he did not even notice his audience. He also no longer wore his normal everyday clothes, but was in his sleeping garments, which pleased Remus. His friend had apparently at least tried to sleep at first.

The faint moonlight, which usually left Remus cold due to habit, and the somewhat stronger sound of falling rain created a wonderful atmosphere for the now melancholy and sorrowful sounds. The lycanthrop could not take his eyes off Sirius' silhouette. His shoulder-length black hair, which, even after many years of neglect, was already back on a more beautiful level than Remus' own, shone softly as Sirius moved to strike new keys. More amazing was that Sirius played without sheets and in an environment that was challenging even for Remus' acquired night vision. Although Remus knew that he and his brother Regulus had received a good piano education through their traditional family, he did never realize how talented Sirius must have been. At Hogwarts, his friend had played rather rarely, probably out of defiance of his family and their etiquette. This incredible man full of surprises. _His incredible man?_ If Remus was honest with himself, he was worried that he could not evaluate how close he and Sirius still were. At school, the two had been inseparable and later as a couple, Remus was able to call Sirius his soulmate with complete and utter certainty. However, it had been three weeks since Sirius came out of hiding, one since Dumbledore secured Grimmauld place and made it their new headquarter. Initially, both men were accommodated in Remus' former parental home, but the isolated part of the Muggle town proved to be utterly inconvenient to house an escaped prisoner. Too many people who knew Remus, watchful neighbors and hardly any opportunity to meet with the members of the order unnoticed. They had been living together for three weeks but after twelve years of uncertainty, grief and pain, a new start was easier said than done. Back then, after Sirius' arrest, he had been sure of never seeing the love of his life again and it had destroyed him. Now, the feeling of not having done enough, of not having fought for his innocence, destroyed him. Ever since he had seen Sirius, or rather what was left of him, in the Shrieking Shack, the fire within him had been rekindled. _Was it ever completely extinguished?_ As a matter of fact, they hugged, longer than platonically explainable, whenever Remus came back from exhausting missions. It had become a habit after their second reunion since the Shrieking Shack, the night when Sirius had silently landed Buckbeak in Remus’ backyard. If it had not been for the restless Hippogriff that began gallivanting around the garden, Remus would probably have taken hours before releasing Sirius' trembling body. Without the astonished looks of Harry, Ron and Hermione and the presence of Peter the traitor, Remus' facade had been about to crumble, and all the pent-up emotions of the last twelve years were dangerously close to push him to the ground. But it did not happen. He did not break. Instead, he had pulled himself together once more, like he always did, and helped Sirius inside. After making sure that his…fellow Marauder, scarred by starvation and fatigue, had not drowned in the bathtub, Remus had fallen asleep on the couch. Or at least he intended to. His mind was unable to rest. Consequently, physical contact had not been the problem. On the contrary, Remus almost believed he could recognize that Sirius, who had always been very physical with him, longed for it and sought out his touches. He had often put his head in Remus' lap while Remus had been sitting stretched out on the sofa in the evening hours of the previous weeks while reading a book. As in the old days, he had fallen asleep immediately and had thus given Remus the chance to run his hands through the soft, black strands of hair unnoticed. Although the fundamental trust seemed to rebuild between them, both still slept in separate rooms, for words were not their strength anymore. Sometimes Remus almost felt like laughing when he pictured how ridiculous the two must look, standing in the corridor before going to bed and not knowing what to say to each other. No one made the first step, so nothing had changed about their situation. In fact, Remus was afraid of taking the first step, because although Sirius gave him many encouraging signals, he could not be sure if they could make a new start or if such a reconciliation was even wanted by Sirius. He could not lose Sirius again, not when he had just miraculously got him back. Could his own mental health survive a direct rejection? Was is not better to be like this than no having him at all? _What a selfish thought._

Remus did not notice that, throughout his heated deliberations, he had unconsciously entered the room with one foot. It was only when the old parquet floor began to creak under his weight and Sirius abruptly stopped with his piano playing, his hands jerking upwards and as if the keys had burnt his fingertips, that Remus came out of his thought bubble. Sirius exhaled loudly and clasped his chest with one hand, his wide eyes looking at Remus. Then he began to smile, looking down, „Merlin’s beard Remus, you scared me.” Remus scratched the back of his head apologetically, what a tremendous idea to sneak up on somebody who has been through Azkaban. “Apologies, I got a bit too carried away listening to your playing.” It was true, without the music the room felt even darker and the rain did nothing but remind him of London’s current cold-weather front. “It wasn’t my intention to wake you,” Sirius said in a soft voice while turning around to face the piano again, “sorry if I did. You of all people should get your sleep.” He sounded rather tired himself, but Remus decided not to comment on that. “No, by all means, I do not mind at all," he began as he moved through the room to approach the piano, “I was only surprised to find the next Mozart in here of all places.” Sirius smiled but it only lasted for a tiny moment. “Careful with that name. My mother might still be able to hex you for it.” He looked around the room in contempt as if he could still see his mother's ghost strutting around the fireplace. “She never was a fan of Muggle-composers to put it mildly. Besides, this old thing is awfully out of tune," he padded the piano with his right hand. Remus now stood diagonally behind Sirius and examined the piano up close. It had really seen better days. Some of the keys were loose and the once brightly polished wood began to chip off. Orion and Walburga Black would be turning in their graves if they could see what had become of their noble estate and who inhabited it now. The piano stool had two seats, one for the student and the other for the piano teacher, as usual in wealthy families. When Sirius moved to the side, Remus interpreted it as a request to sit down as well. With his index finger, he wiped over the layer of dust on the edge of the piano. "You are giving yourself far too little credit, your playing was truly beautiful," he said, unsure what to do next. He would have preferred to ask Sirius about his insomnia, trying to help him, but he was afraid to push him too far. "I have an idea," Sirius suddenly said and reached for Remus' wand. "May I?" When Remus merely nodded, stunned by Sirius' enthusiasm, he cast a short _Accio_ and a grey booklet floated through the door and landed soundlessly on the piano.

When Sirius opened it, Remus realized it was a sheet music book: _50 piano classics - popular works from Bach to Schubert_. "I found this old thing, a gift from Uncle Alphard, when cleaning up the attic. It's hard to believe that Regulus hid it from her all the way to the end.” Sirius flipped through the notebook. It seemed like he knew exactly what he was looking for. "Here," he said with a beaming face and placed the opened notebook on the music stand, "Schubert's Fantasia in F minor, a piece for four hands. Remember when we played this during the summer holidays after sixth year at the Potters?" That's right, Remus had almost completely repressed the beautiful memories of their last long school holidays. Sirius had permanently moved into James' parents' house and Remus had also visited them for two weeks. The summer had been so carefree, so relaxed and Remus had rarely been happier. Not even his transformation had disturbed their bliss, for Sirius and James had been at his side as well. Peter, on the other hand, had pretended to care for his sick mother. Whether he had already gotten entangled in lies at this point, Remus could not say. These weeks had been particularly dear to his heart because, for the first time in his life, he had been able to freely live out his relationship with Sirius. James, of course, already knew about their feelings and his parents, Fleamont and Euphemia, had been incredibly happy and supportive of them. He remembered nights of laughter, board games, rock music and alcohol as they watched the sun set on the lake together or gazed at the stars while lying in the grass. _Making out with Sirius while James gushed over Lily._ Better times. One evening, Sirius had taught him the second hand to Schubert's Fantasia and, to the delight of Euphemia Potter, the two had played for the whole family. Remus was so lost in his thoughts that only the waving of Sirius' hand in front of his face tore him from his memories. “Sorry, I think I spaced out for a bit”, Remus cleared his throat. “Of course, I remember, one of the best summers of my life”. “Likewise,” Sirius responded, and Remus could see a sparkle in his eyes. “So, would you do me the honor of playing with me again, Mr. Lupin?” he continued in a put-on nobleman voice with a heavy posh accent. Remus had to laugh out loud because the idea seemed so absurd to him. "Sirius, I haven't touched a piano since Hogwarts, nor even thought about playing again. I am sure you would not want to strain your ears”. Even Hope Lupin had to admit at some point that her son's talents lay elsewhere. Sirius turned towards him. “Nonsense! I am sure you can manage just fine, please Remus. You can only play the chords if you want and we even got the sheet.” Remus paused, he was really not sure he was up to the task, but what did he have to lose. Besides, Sirius had asked him for it, begged even, and when had he ever been able to refuse him a single wish? "Alright, let's do it!" By the time the light of his wand illuminated the piano to give Remus a better view of the music sheet, Sirius' hands were already hovering over the piano keys, ready to strike. Sirius had not exaggerated; the chords were fairly easy to realize and after a few initial difficulties Remus managed to get lost in the music. Both melodies, timid and tearful at first, began to blend and created a lovely unity. The piece was indeed unique, profound, and deeply moving, yet Remus caught himself time and again as his eyes fell on Sirius’ hands during own brief pauses in the chords. Sirius’ notes were the core of the piece and gave it meaning and life. His long fingers danced elegantly over the white and black keys and Remus could not take his eyes off them. _These hands had once felt so good on his skin._ When Sirius struck the last note and let it fade out in the room, Remus’ insides were so ecstatic that he could have cheered.

But when he turned to face Sirius with an impish grin, he saw, quite to his shock, that his friend's cheeks were covered in tears. How could the mood change so quickly? With a queasy feeling in his stomach, Remus stroked Sirius' hand, which still rested at the bottom of the keys. "Do you want to talk about it?" was all he was able to verbally articulate. “I-“ Sirius began to whisper but his voice broke so he cleared his throat and started again. “Regulus and I also used to play it whenever we were home alone. Back when we still got along. Back before he got himself killed." His voice sounded so defeated that Remus felt chocked up. He did not, for the life of him, know what to say to that. Did not know how to comfort Sirius without reopening old wounds. After a few moments of silence, Remus was sure that Sirius must have been able to hear his brain activity, as hard as he searched for the right words. Fortunately, Sirius began to speak again. "I thought the music might block out my thoughts, I wanted to finally hear something else. But no matter how hard I try to repress it, distract myself or suppress my feelings, nothing seems to work. Remus, I am trapped inside my head. In the place where I've destroyed everything I ever held dear. I have ruined everything. I-", Sirius' voice failed as more tears streamed down his cheeks. Remus knew that this moment had to come at some point. After all, they had spoken very little about the painful past since their reunion. Yet, he felt taken by surprise, his head as blank as never before. "Sirius, listen to me. You didn't destroy anything. You were pushed to break. By your family, by Peter, by Voldemort, and everyone else who did not believe in you," he painfully exhaled, "including me.” It took Remus so much effort to utter this sentence, because it showed in an unembellished way that he had, quite apparently, not loved Sirius enough to fight for him. The greatest regret of his life. “But it was I who persuaded James to make Peter the secret keeper," Sirius continued, looking down to his chest, “I even felt clever about it because I did not think anyone would consider Peter. I sealed her fate. Without me, James and Lily would both still be alive.” Sirius’ voice was not more than a whisper now, as if he hoped the words could not be heard in the room. It sent chills up and down Remus’ spine. „Don’t say that, don’t ever say that. It is not true!” he croaked and took Sirius’ hands in his but the Animagus jerked him away and rapidly got up. "Is it not?" Sirius replied, his trembling voice now filled with rage, "I was there, Remus. I saw them. Lily and James. On the ground, eyes wide open. I stepped over their dead bodies and not a day goes by where I do not close my eyes and am greeted by their empty expressions.” He paused, obviously in pain. “Not a day goes by without me being reminded of what I have done." Sirius hit the side of the piano with his fist. Then he collapsed, hands covering his face. His sobbing made Remus' bones ache. He himself was dangerously close to lose it and had to breathe deeply to calm his racing pulse.

In his helplessness, he stroked Sirius' back, feeling how thin he still was despite several weeks of good food. After what felt like hours, Sirius spoke again in-between wracking sobs, "And as if that was not enough, I left you behind.” From his mouth came a cry from so raw that Remus could feel part of his heart break. “You were the best thing that had ever happened to me in my whole life and I could not hold on to you. How many times in Azkaban, when I could see the full moon in the night sky, did I consider just ending my life? I lost count. But in the end, I was too cowardly to go through with it because when I attempted it once to be with you again, there was nothing.” The world turned into a blur, and so did all the sounds. The rain. The rubbing of Remus' hands over the fabric on Sirius' back. Remus felt empty, his worst hunches were just confirmed. Sirius had indeed tried to end his own life. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to listen again. “No light, no salvation, just a big, empty, black nothing! Like the cell that held me.” Remus could barely hear the last words over Sirius’ intense sobs. “You have every right to hate me. Merlin, you being here at my side at all is a fucking wonder. I, I don't deserve you. You-"

Remus could no longer bear it. He leapt up, pulling Sirius with him to engage him in a tight embrace. Tears were clouding his own vision now, as he closed his eyes and pressed Sirius, who was considerably shorter than him, to his chest. The man trembled so much that without Remus' protective arms he would have probably fallen over. “I am here, with you, and I am not going anywhere," Remus managed to say with a shaky voice. And he meant it. Every single word. There was nothing in this world that could stop him from being at Sirius’ side again. Sirius had clawed his fingers into the back of Remus' T-shirt and tightened his grip all the more after Remus had spoken. His breathing came very fast and stuttering and Remus could, despite his own anguish, detect the first signs of hyperventilation. He knew he needed to do something if he did not want him to have a full-fledged panic attack. They had done this before, Remus still vaguely remembered the right steps, for Sirius had been experiencing panic attacks during their time at Hogwarts and afterwards as well. Especially before the break with his family, before he got disowned. Since their fourth year, Remus had therefore been reading several muggle medical guides on calming and breathing techniques, which his mother bought for him. First, he needed him to get more carbon dioxide into his lungs. “Sirius, I need you to breathe with me, okay?”, Remus raised his voice in a calm manner. Slowly, he released himself from Sirius' tight embrace so that they were facing each other. Sirius' hands had come off the back of his T-shirt and were now on his shoulders, where they held on for dear life. In order not to frighten his friend, Remus first gently stroked his cheek and then placed his cupped hands over Sirius’ mouth and nose. This method had always proved effective in the past and was a good alternative to the stereotypical and quite unpractical breathing into a paper bag. He took deep breaths, in and out, and instructed Sirius to do the same. After a few minutes, he released his hands and continued to breathe with him until Sirius‘ breathing pattern seemed to normalize again.

Exhausted but satisfied with his efforts, he let Sirius’ head sink back into the comfort of his chest and hugged him once more. The only noise in the room was now the rain, which was still pounding against the windows. Remus felt, except for the absence of pain within his bones, like after a transformation. His desire for a soft bed grew stronger. He had needed the quiet breathing exercise himself. The emotional rollercoaster ride of the last hour had shown him the true extend of Sirius’ desperation how much the two of them had to work through together.

Just when Remus was about to propose to sit down on the velvety sofa to rest his tired legs, Sirius started to talk, still nuzzling his chest. “Thank you, Moony, you have no idea how much you helped me." The old nickname came with a sudden feeling of intimacy and Remus could not stop himself from smiling. Without thinking, he ran his hand through Sirius' silky locks, causing the latter to look him in the eyes. How much Remus had missed those grey eyes! Despite the fatigue and several layers of darkness, a haze he did not recognize from their shared time, Sirius' eyes were like two twinkling stars and just as beautiful as he remembered them. The moonlight of the April night, which fell on his face, only increased the intensity of their luminosity. He blinked and the beauty was momentarily covered by the shield of his eyelashes; naturally long and soft looking - feminine compared to the rest of his well-structured features. Framed by these lashes, which Lily had always been jealous of, Remus saw everything he needed. Eyes so solid, so bright, the exact lustrous color of a polished shard of metal. If you looked closer, like he was just now, you would see the swirls of glittering onyx black and tinges of blue at the edges. But just when he thought he never wanted to see anything else ever again, he suddenly felt Sirius' warm breath on his skin and was gently pulled down into a kiss. The moment their lips touched for the first time in twelve years, Remus heard the wolf inside him howl triumphantly. This was not a dream, no fantasy of lonely nights but the promise of realness, pure primal desire, which rekindled the fire within him as Sirius’ frail body melted into his. The man’s soft lips tasted like they used to – like warm tea on stormy evenings, forest runs and crisp autumn air with a touch of peppermint and tobacco. It amazed him how their lips were still moving in perfect sync after all these years, how their bodies seemed to have automatically memorized everything. Remus’ entire body had been taken over by the overwhelming feeling of relief, combined with the throughflow of indescribable love and raw lust. Their kiss was slow and passionate, comforting in ways that words would never be and when Sirius ran his fingers down his spine, he pulled him closer until there was no space left between them and he could feel the beating of his heart against his chest. _The very heartbeat he feared to never hear again._

Knowing that Sirius' oxygen levels had just returned to normal and not wanting to overwhelm him, Remus broke the kiss after a few minutes and rested his forehead against his lover’s. Again, it was Sirius who broke the silence while both grinned like crazy. „Wow, that was everything! I cannot believe we managed to go almost three weeks without doing that.” Remus chuckled, “I know!“ He kissed the top of Sirius’ head, taking in the scent of bergamot and lavender. “No words in the world can describe how much I missed you”. It was the truth. If someone had told him, so many years ago, that they would one day be separated for twelve years, he would have laughed at them. Their relationship resembled a tragic Italian soap opera, those cheesy tearjerkers his mother had sometimes watched on TV. “What a fucking joke!” said Sirius with a sad laugh, frowning, “I spend more time in Azkaban than with you. So many years wasted.” Remus felt that. The words reminded him of that dark time in his life, alone and broken after Sirius’ arrest, when everyone had advised him to get over his convict-boyfriend. As if Sirius had read his mind, he interrupted Remus' thought process. “As much as I would like to pretend that what happened before our kiss is the full extent of my mental instability, I unfortunately know that it was only the tip of the iceberg.” He sighted, “I am a real piece of work and there will be times when I push you away.” Sirius looked down, partly embarrassed. "Not that I haven't always been, but you know what I mean," he added with a shy half-grin. Remus was more than aware of the fact and as delightful as their kiss had been, his lover had twelve years of mental anguish to reprocess. Such a thing cannot be done overnight. “I understand,” Remus gave Sirius’ hand a reassuring squeeze. “You will never have to pretend with me. I'll walk with you every step of the way and support you as best I can. Take all the time you need and please never hesitate to tell me openly how you feel and when you need some space. I am here.” Sirius closed the distance between them yet again and gave Remus another kiss. This time it was short and sweet, although no less stunning. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Remus Lupin, but I am certainly not complaining.” Then he picked up Remus’ wand from the piano, „As much as I enjoy standing in my parents' dusty rooms at night, I think we can do much better than that.” He tilted his head like an open invitation. “Come to bed with me,” Sirius said longingly, taking Remus’ hand in his. He led the way but Remus halted, stopping Sirius as well. “Are you sure?”, the last thing he wanted was to rush their newfound relationship. Sirius smiled, mischievously, and for the second time that night the moonlight reflected a sparkle in his dark eyes, reminding Remus of better times. “I like the way you think, Moony, but I really just intend to get some proper sleep”, he turned around waving his hair. “For now,” he added not so innocently. It was at this moment that the wolf felt the weight of the last twelve years slowly begin to lift from his shoulders and as Sirius led him up the stairs along the dark corridor, Remus smirked like a schoolboy. Maybe the old nickname still did the trick.

*******

"You know, when they say: ‘You’ve made it when you see your picture everywhere’, I always imagined something else,” Sirius said, looking down at his own face on the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ that was lying on his nightstand. Remus grimaced because he hated how the wanted posters made his soulmate look like a deranged psychopath. One day they would find a way to prove his innocence. Sitting down on the other side of the king-sized bed, he realized that he had not been in this bedroom since Hogwarts. The Blacks had spared neither expense nor effort in furnishing their sons' rooms and his back promptly remembered the wonderful feeling of the expensive mattress. With a prickling sensation in his stomach - after all, the last time they had slept together was over ten years ago - Remus pulled the blanket over their exhausted bodies. As expected, Sirius put his head on his chest and snuggled close. His hair tickled Remus' face and although this had often irritated him in the past, he was now grateful for any sign, however small, that proved to him that Sirius Black was indeed resting on his chest again. Finally. _After all this time._

When Sirius’ breath evened out after a few minutes and Remus was fairly certain he was asleep, he softly kissed the top of Sirius’ head and, with a feeling of tender euphoria, gently whispered: "Thanks Mum." Perhaps our loved ones, no matter where they are, lead us down the right path after all. Maybe this was their second chance.


End file.
